Tag Archives: short story

My first impression was that I’d expected him to be a little scarier, somehow. I mean, sure, the blood-encrusted clothes were a little on the horrible side, but he looked fairly normal beyond that… sort of “I was a Government … Continue reading →

With my shirt tied to the back of my motorcycle, I hopped on, kickstarted the monster and headed down Wilson Boulevard to do my business. I saw what I expected to see as I went along: broken windows, bloodstains, and … Continue reading →

With my shirt tied to the back of my motorcycle, I hopped on, kickstarted the monster and headed down Wilson Boulevard to do my business. I saw what I expected to see as I went along: broken windows, bloodstains, and … Continue reading →

It always occurs to me, after little scuffles like these, that I’d be dead or dying if they hadn’t lifted Martial Law. The police and military had no use, or mercy, for vigilante justice of any kind. It didn’t matter … Continue reading →

“Fuck you, asshole!” His breath was awful! Unsurprisingly, he swung again. This time it was a side-to-side strike, rather than an overhead attack. Fine. I studied a number of martial arts from childhood into my awkward college years. One of … Continue reading →